Some Form of Comfort
by TsukizuNya
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive was still haunted by the time he spent in captivity- it frequently invaded his dreams. Thankfully, his demon butler was always there to offer some form of comfort. Slight SebCiel, slight fluff. Oneshot drabble.


It called out to him at night, their jeering faces pressed up against his window panes, breath fogging up the glass. 'W_e're going to get you. We're going to tear you apart and cut open your intestines, gouge out your eyes and ignore your shattered pride screaming for help. You won't even have the strength to writhe in agony by the time we've laid our hands upon your small, fragile body.'_

In the comfort of his fluffed pillows and silk duvet, Ciel Phantomhive shifted restlessly. Though such nightmares [which were sometimes memories] occured often, they still caused him distress, even if he tried not to show it. The agony of being absolutely helpless, the inability to protect ones' self, they were feelings that the lofty Earl Phantomhive had once felt, yes. But that self had been torn to pieces the day he'd been captured.

The blue haired boy shuddered as his mind replayed the memory of John [an older boy who had taken it upon himself to help Ciel] spread eagle upon a stone altar, blood streaming from his chest and trickling down onto the grey rock. John's eyes were frozen in shock, mouth opened in a silent scream that was caused by the numerous injuries upon his body. Thick lines, thin lines, whip marks and burns were littered on his person, but the cause of his current agony was sticking out of his heart. A knife, blade glistening with crimson, was digging into his chest.

And even a blue haired, overproteted, asthmatic child could understand what that meant.

Ciel shot up from his horizontal position, panting furiously as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. One hand clutched desperately at his heart, whilst the other reached for his eyepatch-less face, almost unconciously tracing a pentagram on his cheek. That had been the one of the worst dreams yet, and though he loathed to admit it, he wasn't completely comfortable with returning to sleep's sweet embrace just yet. Collecting his thoughts, he debated his next course of action. Reading Poe by candlelight seemed like a satisfactory decision, however he wasn't quite sure where Sebastian kept the candles, and-

"A bad dream, my lord?" Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Literally, in this case. Ciel smoothly turned his head towards the demon, trying very hard to not look like he'd been terrified by his dream and that his butler's sudden appearence really hadn't calmed his still racing heart. Still, Sebastian had brought a lit candle with him. And that light, that sweet innocent light that he'd once possesed _and could never have aga-no, don't think about it. _brought him some sembalance of comfort.

"Tch. It's none of your business, demon." Ciel glared at the suave man in front of him, attempting to stab _like that knife covered in crimso-_ him with the use of his ice cold eyes.

"But, my lord, if you are to be happy, then it is _very much _my business." As usual, the demon had him backed into a corner, and Ciel was in no state of mind to navigate out of it. So he settled for one last glare, before pointedly turning over, away from Sebastian. [He would later deny all accusations of the actions being childish, stating that he was simply tired and wanting sleep, and that Sebastian's rambling had prevented him from geting it] Unnoticed to him, Sebastian's usual smug smile had drifted into a frown, and the usual triumph that lorded over his face was replaced by a look of intense thought. "Since it is already so late, my lord, I shall cancel all classes scheduled for later today. After all, you cannot grow without sleep, and your growth, especially, is something we must pay close attention to."

Ciel would normally have responded with an angry retort at the thinly veiled insult, but he was already asleep. His chest rose and fell gently, and no traces of nightmares seemed to linger. A shadow of a smile flitted on Sebastian's mouth, before his lips curled up into his usual smirk. He carefully tucked his master in, and blew out the candle which had miraculously remained in his right hand the whole time.

"You truly are one of the most interesting masters dance I've had, my lord. I cannot wait to taste the bittersweetness of your soul upon my lips." His muttered somewhat seductively, teeth grabbing at the white glove covering his left hand. Pulling it off, he held the hand high as the contract mark glowed faintly, illuminating the surrounding area and bathing Ciel in a purple light. Yes, Ciel Phantomhive's soul would be the best meal yet, cultivated with trickery and kind actions, suited to his exact tastes.

But Sebastian readily admitted to himself that, whilst the meal would be exquisite, losing such a fine specimen would be a great loss indeed.


End file.
